Don't Let Me Sin
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Elizabeth shows up at Sebastian's door late at night. In her wedding dress. {Sebastian/Elizabeth short oneshot. Modern Day AU.}


**. x .**

Sebastian had opened his door, thinking it might be the old man Tanaka or Bard, but there _she_ was, looking all stressed and nervous. In her wedding dress of all things. Her green eyes were shining wide and alerted. Her bare powdered shoulders were squared stiff. Her formal braids kept in for the ceremony were currently ruffled and askew...probably from all the dancing she'd done...or it was from the apparent rush over here.

"I paid my driver extra to get me here without being seen." That was what she decided to say first.

"How intense," he deadpanned, shifting aside to let her in.

He invited her inside because it was the civil thing to—it was the human thing—the right thing—no, wait. He invited her in because he _could._ That was all.

(It wasn't as if he loved her.)

Sebastian didn't even love _Ciel_ that much, even with all this nurturing and coaching and tutoring he offrered the poor orphan boy who had nightmares and asthma attacks on a regular basis. Honestly, he had always been _more_ interested in the perks this unusual job of his came with. In a way, Ciel Phantomhive was so broken and so helpless living on his own after his secret kidnapping and cult gang-rape that Ciel had basically granted Sebastian _anything_ he wished for just to make him _stay_ and work for him. And only him. Sebastian (a fake alias he used on his resumes and passports to get into this country illegally before) therefore received the upstairs flat of the Ceil's guest house next door to the 17th Century-oriented Phantomhive Mansion that was recently remodeled following the arson-murder of Ciel's parents; plus he got two sports cars, all the furniture, clothes, weapons, and food he could have ever asked for. Sebastian even was given three cats a free gift this past Christmas. Ciel's bottomless pit of inherited funds paid for all the vet bills and everything else.

It was a sad situation, sure, and a little _disturbing_ to think about, but Sebastian was pretty sure that if he would ever request it, Ciel would willingly give him his very soul to insure that he wouldn't leave him behind. (Ciel hired him initially because based on some twisted form of logic, only an experienced underground criminal like _Sebastian_ could protect Ciel from the other sick bastards and prowlers out there. It was like fighting fire with fire, tic for tac. Not that Sebastian was ever _flattered_ by this, per se. That was just...Ciel being Ciel. The brat.)

See? Sebastian really, really didn't love anyone.

He didn't care for _Elizabeth_ no matter how times he could make her sigh or gasp whenever he reached out to her. He didn't care how the outside world seemed to grow smaller, and farther away, narrowing down to just her and him, alone within these darkened walls. She was a typical invader of personal space anyhow, and they both knew it. As Ciel's cousin and one true childhood friend he ever had since, she was a frequent visitor to the Phantomhive grounds whether they expected her arrival or not. (Sebastian was in no place to judge them either, not with a dark past like he had...though silently, personally, he could see _maybe_ there was _something_ more than familial affection bubbling between the two. But Ciel wasn't ever that vocal about anything really. And obviously the whole idea of falling in love with someone in the _family_ he probably could never end up with lawfully, or happily, seemed to irk Ciel to no end and he refused to encourage it further. Elizabeth, meanwhile, was always humble in her love and never pushed him.)

Still, Sebastian didn't care about her no matter how many versions of Eve and the Forbidden Fruit played on and on inside his head as she stepped closer, closer, and closer, placing her hands upon his chest.

"I order you to tell me to leave," she whispered then.

He leaned down suddenly and kissed her nevertheless. It was burning and deep. He could taste the lingering sweetness of fine red wine and rich chocolate that was most likely served at the reception hours before.

She pulled away just as his fingers fell to her open back, tracing the beaded pattern stitched around her, slowly slipping down. Her cheeks were already red and her lips were even redder.

"Don't. Don't let me sin. Please," she pleaded quietly, morally torn. "Please tell me to stop. I order you to _tell_ me to _stop_ this. Please tell me to stop, and scream, and run, and leave, and to never return."

He obeyed. Somewhat.

(Ciel's orders are the only orders he genuinely listened to after all.)

He took a direct step forward, intending to drive her back towards the door. "Stop, Elizabeth," he muttered, staring straight at her. She retreated from him, bit by bit, and when she was at the doorway again, he reached for it. He began to close it gradually and deliberately. Only, he closed it _behind_ her. He then locked it with an eerie, loud _click_...now trapping her in here with him. She pressed up against the strong wood barrier and he towered over her being the rebel he truly was at heart. "Stop," he said once more, his lips trailing hotly across her throat. "Stop this, Elizabeth. Leave. And never return."

( _He_ never called her Lizzy. She was a little prissy sometimes despite her maturity, a young wealthy diva, a highborn princess of the modern type, daddy's little girl, a pure glass angel in her brother's eyes, and her mother's prized athletic genius. Seriously. What this girl could do at fencing lessons...how her body moved and how her chest heaved with the adrenaline, going in for victory...well, it was enough to make any bachelor's imagination run wild. But, to him, she was never a _Lizzy._ That pet-name and her character never matched that well. She was a true-blooded _Elizabeth_ through and through.)

He repeated himself over and over through low moans and whispers into her ear like a mischievous ghost, _"Scream. Run. Leave, and never return here. Scream for me, Elizabeth_ ," and over and over again, as they molded together, as he lifted her thighs against his hips, and as he brushed her heavy white skirts higher up, as his belt buckle came undone. He _told_ her everything she told him to _tell_ her. He would echo the words sharply, darkly, so perfectly that it momentarily scared her. Thrilled her, even.

He told her to " _leave,"_ when he finally pushed into her, and he told her to scream and to run when her nails dug into his vest, fumbling with the buttons. He told her to " _never return,"_ when he took her hand in his and he slid her wedding bands off her finger, letting them drop beneath his heel.

The friction and heat between them was real, and the lust was real too. Her pain was real. Her guilt was real, her want was real. The dull ache in her limbs was real. Her sorrow and her anger was real.

Tonight, with him inside her, with the two of _them_ thriving together as one under these looming shadows, it all became very real to her. Validated things for her. She felt a lot worse and a lot better about marrying Charles all at once (and, up until now, feeling things for her own cousin cousins shouldn't feel on the side were forgotten. Sieglinde's girlish smile and hand on Ciel's knee vanished from her thoughts.)

She was caught in the moment. Nothing else mattered. But this.

She felt herself tightening, trembling, and reaching her limit, falling over the edge.

Somehow Sebastian had lowered them and they ended up on the polished hardwood flooring in a heap of rigid breaths and sweaty half-opened clothes. She arched her back as she released and afterwards he kissed her with a lot of teeth, rolling off her.

 **. x .**

Gazing at the ceiling, Elizabeth eventually suppressed a dry sob beside him. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

He clutched her wrist then in a vague acknowledgement, his thumb caressing the soft curve of skin there. "It's only a sin if you believe it is."

She wanted to laugh. But the outcome of tonight was still very strange. She couldn't laugh at that. "And you know this because you are the master of sin?"

"I know a whole lot more about sin than most."

They stayed simply as they were. Not speaking, not sleeping. Just lying there on the floor, watching the stars fade out in the sky. Soon it would be dawn. And her family would most likely fret about her absence; her new husband would start to wonder why she never showed up at their hotel. Or why he spent the whole night in their honeymoon suite by himself.

"I don't...even know why I came here." She stood and shoved down her bulking Cinderella skirts, smoothing them out without glancing back. Her hands delicately raised to her head. She could tell her hair was a futile mess. There was no point in trying to fix just like the fashion designer had back at her favorite salon, so, she started to pull at the pearly pins instead and tossed them carelessly aside on his leather sofa, letting her mane of sun-yellow curls fall around her.

She fully turned, continuing the searching for her rings on the floor.

She found them and slid them back in place, wincing.

All he could was watch; but then he huffed, effortlessly moving to his feet, correcting his shirt and trousers. Aiming for the writing desk across the way, he opened the top drawer, taking out his expensive lighter and fresh pack of cigs.

"Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford-Gray," he tried saying in response to her silence. Skeptically. Cynically. He wanted to hear how official it sounded out loud. "That's a horrible mouthful." It was grating.

"At least it's a name."

"I have a name," he protested shortly, lighting the cigarette.

"It's my _real_ name."

He exhaled smoke. "Sebastian _is_ a real name. It exists in this time and space."

"Though I don't know who you are, do I? I mean, not really. You just appeared one day out of thin air with Ciel, when I was fourteen, almost fifteen. You've been here all this time, watching over us, working as Ciel's baker and pool-boy servant because you were just looking for an impressive paycheck—"

"—Live-in companion."

She looked at him. "Whatever you want to call yourself, either way, I still see a dog on a leash, and—"

"—Look. Your cousin would be lost without _me_ , toots. I have the real control here. I practically hold him in the palm of my hand. Well, actually, no...granted he's not _that_ small in person compared to me. I meant metaphorically-speaking of course."

"— _And_ ," she stressed, reminding herself to not display any visual discomfort, to not sound overly offended by his last remark. "—all I know, is that you practice defensive driving, boxing, and you have good combative intelligence—military level skills, which confuses me more, because you claim you never served in the military to begin with."

"I have not."

"But you do know things, certain things. Like how the Black Market works, how criminals think, how assassins train themselves, how killers target their victims."

"Hm."

"So? How you ever going to tell me what you are?"

He got it. He knew what she meant. She was fascinated by him...but she didn't _understand_ him.

Through the veil of smoke, he told her. "Trust me. You don't want to know."

"What about how old you are? Are you really twenty-seven?"

"Yes. Just as much as you are twenty."

By then she'd gathered and straightened up herself completely before she walked over. They stood face to face and even if he was a head taller, Elizabeth was all fire and steel. She _felt_ tall enough. "Give me something."

Stubbing out his cigarette, he moved inward, his lips almost grazing hers. The smell of the tobacco overwhelmed her senses. Though it was his voice that caused her body to react. Heart pounding. Blood rushing again. Familiar heat in her thighs. He looked down on her through his dark lashes, and there was a hint of a wicked smile forming.

"Well...let's just say that I've been called The Devil's Son once or twice in my past. So, I can promise you this, Elizabeth, there are no Pearly Gates in my future. No salvation. My life is one long, long dark tunnel, and the only light I see at the end of it is Hellfire. Accept that. I have."

She didn't say anything.

He paused, and stole one last kiss from her...again, simply because he _could_. He was done for anyway, in life, in death. He drowned in sin. True, he might have felt a weird yet stimulating connection with her, a tangled half-friendship that he was privately fond of, and it had been _years_ since any other person alive had amused him this much, but, his ways of self-damnation wouldn't stop at her. It just wasn't that easy.

He was urging her backwards, up against the desk itself and he clutched her waste, then her knees, getting ready to part her legs, when she jumped and immediately stopped him. An irritating buzzing came from behind her. It was Sebastian's mobile ringing against the hard surface of the desk. Ciel's name and picture I.D. was lit up on the smart screen and they both drew away from each other, finding a proper sense of separation.

 **. x .**

When Sebastian agreed to meet Ciel in his study, like always, because he needed some information from him and ended the conversation, he whirled around to see that Elizabeth was already gone.


End file.
